


Der Drache

by SilenceoftheLlamas



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Violence, dragonformers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheLlamas/pseuds/SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An orphan going by the name of Jazz finds himself within the clutches of a dragon unwilling to share their name, nor what they are hoarding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

Jazz ran, stumbling over the uneven terrain as he tried to escape those chasing him.

He clutched a bundle of energon cubes to his chest, gasping for breath as he tried his hardest to go faster. His t-cog was not harmed, and was fully functional, but as low on energon as he was he found himself reluctant to use it.

His downfall was a root, and he tripped over it. The energon cubes went flying, but all thoughts of going after them vanished when the sound of pedefalls were right behind him. Scrambling to his feet, Jazz crawled into a small burrow he had spotted and hoped he wasn't seen.

Just his luck, he was.

"Get back here!" The mech shouted, huge grisly hand reaching in and attempting to close around his ankle. Jazz yelped and scrambled backwards.

If only there were something underneath him.

Jazz fell. And fell. And fell. His scream echoed, and the mechs both looked at each other before making to follow him, beginning to widen the hole.

Jazz coughed to clear his vents, looking around himself.

It was a huge chamber that was filled to the brim with a huge hoard of datapads. Jazz selected one randomly and onlined it, surprised to see a story written on it. He didn't know what he had expected, maybe plans? Secrets? Myths? Not a story about a bunny and a cackling stump. Wasn't that for younglings? Why was it in here?

Jazz froze at a deep rumble, looking up to see a few datapads trembling. They gave way to reveal a huge tunnel, bigger than a house, that had claw marks marring it.

Jazz swallowed. Hard. What had he set himself up for?

All he wanted was something to eat.

Carefully putting down the datapad, Jazz was about to go investigate when he heard something coming towards him. Not even stopping to think, he was quick to dive head-first into the hoard and make sure he was hidden.

Whatever it was, it sounded big. Scratch that, it sounded _huge_. It scraped against the edges of the tunnel, something sharp clacking against the ground. It growled, and there was a deep sniffing noise before-

"I smell you, little one."

What in the pit...?

Cautiously, Jazz crawled out and promptly balked at what he saw.

A dragon.

He was looking at a dragon.

Then that meant...

It hoarded... Datapads? Well, Jazz supposed it was better than knives. That would have hurt. A lot.

The dragon was the biggest thing he had ever seen, excluding the metrotitans. Their wings were held close to their body, but even Jazz could tell that when spread they'd block out the stars light. Their optics were amber, almost golden, and Jazz couldn't help but stare at them. They were a beautiful colour.

A red crest adorned their white helm, and with a brief flutter of amusement Jazz realised that they shared a colour scheme: black and white.

"Why are you here? This is no place for a youngling." They rumbled, settling down atop their hoard. Jazz involuntarily took a step back, bumping into their tail that had curled around the space.

"It was an accident" Jazz spluttered, not eager to make himself a meal. "Ah was bein' chased."

"By whom?"

"Mechs in the town. They've got it out for me..." Jazz grumbled, annoyed that he had been caught stealing again. They'd never chased him into the forest before...

"Why were they chasing you?"

Jazz found himself unable to lie, the optics penetrating him with their intense glare. It was as if they already knew.

"Ah stole from them."

There was an amused rumble. "You are honest, little one. While others have lied you have not."

"What's the use in lairing? Ain't gunna get ya anywhere." Jazz replied with a shrug.

"The truth." The dragon replied. It's helm suddenly snapped up, optics narrowing. "I believe you are still being followed."

Jazz immediately squeaked, shrinking away from the hole he had tumbled in through. With only a simple glance at Jazz, the dragon stalked forwards and breathed a dazzling flame into the tunnel. Jazz watched in awe, the bright light enchanting.

There was the sound of screaming and an explosion, quickly followed by silence.

"Did ya just...?"

"They were disturbing me."

Jazz weakly nodded. Great, stuck in a cave with a psychopathic dragon. What more could he want from life?

"You appear upset." The dragon prompted, sitting upon the datapads again, although this time his helm was closer.

"Ya just killed them."

"Oh no, I just singed them a little. Now, I don't believe you have introduced yourself."

"Ma names Jazz." Jazz replied, deciding it would be best for him to stay in the dragons good graces. They nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

"How will you be of use to me, little one?"

"Ah... What?"

"Skills. I assume thievery is not one of them, little one."

"Why do ya call me little one?"

"Because that is what you are."

Jazz huffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Ah can sing, Ah can write, Ah can read-"

"You can read?"

"Yeah, pretty well. Taught maself." Jazz replied, proudly puffing out his chest.

The dragon nudged a datapad towards him. "Read to me."

"Wha', now?"

"Yes."

Jazz picked up the datapad and onlined it. It was another younglings story that he recognised, about a trio of creatures he'd never seen before searching for the rim of heaven. "This is a younglings story."

"Perfect for you then, yes?"

"Ya've never read any of these, have ya?" Jazz asked, noticing how pristine they all were. Not something you'd expect to see on a datapad belonging to a giant.

"I cannot read your language."

Jazz would have laughed if he did not look so serious.

"So ya just hoarded these for the heck'a it?" He snorted, barely restraining the giggles.

"In the hopes that I would someday learn."

Jazz frowned. Everything he had known about dragons involved them not caring for cybertronian mecha, frowning upon them and seeing them as lesser beings. Why was this one so different?

He couldn't go back to that town. With two mechs now badly injured, possibly dead, the blame would be pinned on him, and he had no family to speak of. A plan began to formulate in his mind.

"Ah could teach ya."

The dragon immediately perked up. "Teach me?"

"Yeah. Ah can't say what kind'a teacher Ah'd be, but Ah'm willing."

"Please. Read to me."

* * *

 

Jazz had forgotten how long he had been there.

Any attempts to leave had been thwarted by the dragon, it always seeming to know where he was. All attempts to get the dragon to stop calling him 'little one' had failed miserably.

It wasn't as if it was terrible living there. He read to the dragon, taught him a few words, was given a cube of the best quality energon he'd ever tasted and was then given free reign to explore the complex tunnel system the dragon had dug out. Every so often, Jazz would stumble across an older hoard. He had found a hoard of chess boards, a hoard of swords, a hoard of computers and a hoard of curiosities. Some days, Jazz would widen the tunnels so the dragons wings wouldn't catch and drag on them. He had lost count of how many times he'd seen fresh energon smeared on the tunnels, a dragon licking its wounds at the end of it.

Jazz had found that the dragon was comfortable to sleep on, and often did. They were warm, and despite appearances comfy. If the dragon minded they said nothing, and many times Jazz had woken up in a different room, the dragon having moved around with Jazz on its back.

But something didn't feel right.

The dragon never told Jazz its name, always changing the topic or ignoring the question. Some nights, they would disappear only to reappear in the morning with their muzzle and claws covered in energon. No explanation was given.

It was when the dragon had left again one night when Jazz decided to take a look around.

There was one tunnel that was forbidden, and it was the one the dragon clambered out of whenever they returned. Steeling his resolve, Jazz snuck into it and towards the chamber at the end.

He wished he hadn't.

It was a hoard that Jazz knew of through legend alone. The only one of its kind.

A hoard of the deactivated.

The smell was horrendous, energon still fresh in the latest additions. It was still being added to.

Jazz knew who this dragon was, and why he refused to share his name.

It was spoken in hushed whispers, believed that saying it aloud would summon him. There was only one called Prowl, and it was this dragon. The name had been tainted, never again was another designated that name. Jazz swallowed hard.

What was Prowl planning? Was he simply going to toy with him until he'd had his fun? Learn to read then kill him?

Before he could be caught, Jazz scrambled away. So long as Prowl didn't know, he would be safe.

* * *

 

Come morning, Prowl was still not back.

Jazz hadn't moved from the small room Prowl had dug out for him. It was mostly filled with blankets and pillows, a place for Jazz to kick back and relax. In the wall was a shelf filled with datapads.

Jazz was still pondering over what Prowl was up to. He was still adding to his hoard of bodies, that was for sure. Jazz felt slightly sick knowing it was there, but forced down the feeling.

Prowl had made no attempts to hurt nor threaten him. Yes, he had been angry with him before - plenty of times, in fact (calling him a tub of lard probably wasn't the _best_ idea he’d ever had) yet he had never been violent.

And when Jazz tried to escape, he couldn't help but notice that Prowl looked... Scared.

Did he not want him to leave? Was that why he was keeping his identity a secret?

A loud snarl echoed through the chamber, and Jazz snapped upright from where he was sprawled over the pillows.

It sounded like Prowl.

He was terrified that he had been caught, and so it was reluctantly that he stuck his head through the opening. He couldn't see the dragon, but he could see the glowing of energon.

Prowl had come in a different way.

Believing that he was safe, Jazz hopped down and ran towards the pool of energon.

Just around the corner, Prowl had curled up, wings hiding his body. The energon was coming from him.

"Dragon?" Jazz tentatively asked. He wasn't about to call him Prowl - oh no, that was suicide. Gingerly stepping closer, pedes splashing in the lifeblood that had spilled into the floor, Jazz reached forwards and placed a hand on the closest wing.

Prowl twitched, wing lifting so the dragon could look at Jazz.

Jazz's jaw dropped as he noticed the gashes on his face, and he pushed past the wing to take a look at the rest of his body.

The shafts of arrows thicker than his wrist were embedded in his armour, energon forcing its way out through the wound. Long scratches marred his plating, some nicking a line and slicing it open.

"Wha' happened to ya?" Jazz asked, reluctant to touch anything.

"Boarder guard." Prowl replied, hissing as he shifted to allow Jazz closer. "Didn't expect them."

Jazz knew that they had a boarder guard, although he was incredibly out of the loop as to what they were doing. An idea began brewing, although he didn't know if Prowl would like it.

"Ah could go into the town an' see-"

"No." Prowl hissed, optics narrowing as his denta were bared.

"Aw, come on! Ah'll come back! Better than ya getting turned into a colander!"

Prowl tilted his helm. "Colander...?"

Jazz would have slapped his palm to his forehead. They didn't know what it was.

"A holey thing- doesn't matter. Ah'll be honest, Ah don't know how ta get these out."

Prowl huffed and let himself sag down onto the ground. "I know others who do, however you'll have to hide."

"Why, are they not friendly?"

"Not at all."

"Fine." Jazz huffed, annoyed that he wouldn't be getting a breath of fresh air anytime soon.

* * *

 

Jazz did not hide in his room like Prowl had told him to. Oh no, he hid amongst Prowls hoard.

He had to find the way out. An opening to the outside world he could get to.

Just remembering the stench of putrefying bodies made him shudder as his tanks lurched. He could very easily join them if he stayed.

Silently, he sat hidden beneath a pile of datapads, listening hard. Prowl hadn't moved an inch from where he lay, still breathing heavily and hissing in pain every so often. Jazz's spark clenched at the thought of leaving him while he was so vulnerable, but the need to be free was too large to ignore.

He had to go.

The sound of something coming down through a tunnel reached Jazz, and he looked up to see another dragon, slightly smaller than Prowl amble in. Mostly white with a grey crest and a single red streak down their arms. They growled, making clicking noises and snarls that Jazz didn't understand  before walking towards where Prowl was.

Seizing his chance, Jazz fled.

Fresh air.

It was intoxicating, and Jazz took a few moments to just _breathe_.

But he couldn't stay there for long. Jazz quickly began to walk towards the town, making sure to stick to the shadows (who knew it was twilight already?) so he wasn't seen.

As an orphan, Jazz had to fend for himself, but this didn't include his shelter. Himself and the other mecha in similar situations had all banded together, building their own ramshackle dwelling where nobody else had wanted to build. It was still where he remembered it, and he couldn't have been happier to see it.

As he opened the door, three faces looked at him.

"Sup."

* * *

 

Jazz lay right at the bottom of the pile. The others had all piled on top of him, their own way of welcoming him back. But Jazz wasn't asleep.

All he could hear was a low, mournful sound coming from the forest. It sounded as though it were echoing, and it hadn't stopped in joors.

His spark clenched as there was a hitch in the song. Jazz had a terrible feeling that it was Prowl singing, and it was himself who had made him sing such a mournful song.

Trying to wriggle free of the pile was fruitless, and so Jazz had to stay and suffer with the song.

Come morning, it had begun to taper off.

But Jazz knew that he couldn't go back. It was suffocating in there, constantly being kept inside and out of sight.

At the same time, he missed the security that Prowl had offered. Maybe if he came back he'd prove himself...?

He'd need something to come back with. Information. That was what he needed.

Jazz broke free from the pile and snuck towards the town.

* * *

 

The library was the first place Jazz looked. Prowl had often lamented over the fact he didn't have the fourth book in the Harry Potter series. He had heard dragons were involved and had, obviously, been curious to see their portrayal. Weirdly enough he had the final three, and that had been the only one he was missing.

Another book caught Jazz's attention, one he wouldn't have minded reading. It was promptly plucked from the shelf and stashed into his subspace.

Given the fact he was an orphan, it was thought that he hadn't worked out his subspace. Before he had met Prowl, that was true. The dragon had taken pity and shown him.

Nobody would be stopping him for stealing.

No, he might be lynched for murder. So he was being quick.

The other orphans had told him of how the two mechs who had chased him were found dead in the forest, badly burned and parts missing. As Jazz had gone missing after being chased by them, it was assumed he was on the run.

More data pads were plucked from the shelves. He was still alone.

At the sound of voices Jazz decided it was high time he left, and snuck out.

Now, back to Prowl.

Would the dragon be mad? Probably. Jazz hoped that the stolen gifts would be enough to subdue him.

* * *

 

Prowl hissed in pain as he shifted, licking his wing.

Digging a new tunnel was always a pain, even more so when there was no one to help you. The chamber at the end was a different story - much easier. Especially if he only wanted himself to fit in it. No horde, just simply himself.

Having no clan anymore _did_ have its faults, but it's merits were... Satisfactory.

Still, being injured and without a clan was dangerous. Prowl could only hope that Ratchet wouldn't monopolise on the chance to be the one to kill Prowl. He wasn't one for killing - he was a medic - but it didn't mean others in his clan wouldn't snap at the chance. At least Prowl was glad that if anyone were to break in, Jazz wouldn't be getting caught in the crossfire.

Jazz. He couldn't believe that he'd run away. Pain and sadness were the first things that registered, and betrayal. Lonely, he was lonely. He'd been alone for _so_ _long_... And he'd let himself believe that Jazz was going to stay...

Anger. Next he had felt anger. It was short lived, the extreme movements of attempting to destroy something too taxing on his broken body.

Then, it was grief. He had lost everything, his clan to a war and then Jazz. Jazz had always wanted to leave, yet Prowl never let him, and so Jazz had waited until he was injured and couldn't follow to escape.

Prowl supposed it was for the best. Jazz would never learn who he was and could get on with his own life, not knowing what was underneath the forest.

Finally, he had dug the tunnel deep enough. It was a downwards slope, hard to see from above and even harder to navigate down. He set to work carving out the cavern at the end, ensuring the bottom was horizontal.

* * *

 

Jazz sprinted into the forest.

He had been seen by the guard, and their shouts had attracted too much attention for him to hide. Back to Prowl it was.

The other orphans didn't understand. Why go back when you were desperate to leave? Why leave us again? Safe to say, Jazz wouldn't have been surprised if they were the ones to rat him out.

Prowl. Would the dragon even accept him or the datapads? Jazz hoped he would. It was that or being publicly executed for murder. They'd never let an orphan defend themselves.

It was only when Jazz was sure he had lost the guards that he made his way towards the entrance to Prowls den. The stolen goods were still locked up safely in his subspace, so Jazz had both hands free to clamber and climb over rocks, through the canopy above and to crawl through small tunnels created by animals. He had to make sure he could not be easily followed.

Getting back in again was the hard part. Jazz knew where it should have been, yet he couldn't see it. It looked like a plain rock face, but Jazz was certain that he had passed that particular bush when he was leaving...

Picking up a stick, he threw it at the rock face.

Only it didn't bounce off, and instead went through it.

Jazz remembered Prowl telling him about illusionary barriers. This must have been one of them.

Remembering where the stick went in, Jazz carefully stepped through.

* * *

 

It was a maze.

Jazz knew the way to most of the chambers, but Jazz had found that it was still somewhat hard to navigate. The fire that usually illuminated the tunnels was gone, so Jazz had to go by feel and the feeble light from glowing crystals alone.

There was a track of fresh energon leading towards a tunnel Jazz didn't recognise. Energon was smeared on the walls, caught in grooves carved by wings.

It was Prowls.

Jazz stepped in, only to suddenly stop and have to pinwheel his arms to find his balance. It suddenly sloped down at a 70 degree angle, meaning one wrong step would send him tumbling down.

Carefully, sticking close to the wall, Jazz began to edge his way down.

A loose crystal he didn't spot in time was quite literally his downfall, Jazz loosing his balance and tumbling down the rest of the way. He skidded into a cavern with one other occupant.

Jazz held his breath, watching as their optics remained offline. He wasn't moving, and Jazz would have thought he was deactivated if it weren't for the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Slowly standing, Jazz quietly walked the few steps towards Prowls face. He looked almost peaceful, a slight frown on his face.

Jazz was glad he was asleep. He had no idea what he'd say.

And he _did_ look awfully comfortable...

Jazz took the datapads he had stolen for Prowl out of his subspace and placed them in the mouth of the cavern before tucking himself onto Prowls shoulder and falling into recharge.

* * *

 

Something had changed.

Prowl cracked open an optic, sleepily looking around. His blurry sight focused on a pile of datapads that were most certainly not there before.

Instantly on the defensive, Prowl began to sniff them to find out who had left them when he discovered them to stink of Jazz.

Jazz had left them...?

Speaking of which, he could still smell him and there was a weight leaning against him that wasn't there before. Looking down, he spotted Jazz recharging on his shoulder, scrapes and scratches marring his frame. Dried energon was splattered on him. What had the little one been through?

Waking him was probably the best course of action, so Prowl wriggled his shoulder, forcing Jazz to slide to the floor and wake up.

"Wazzup'appenin'?" Was his dignified response, groggily sitting up and rubbing at his optics under his visor. He started when he realised that Prowl was very much awake and was regarding him blankly, expression giving away nothing like usual. "Oh. Hi, didn't expect you to wake up so soon." He admitted, making to stand.

"You left." Was Prowls deadpan response.

"An' look at the haul Ah got!" Jazz excitedly gestured to the datapads. "Ah got the Goblet of Fire, like ya wanted, one with Timothy Cavendish when the Scottish started a bar fight, the one with the leecher in Transylvania... Hey, are ya even listenin' ta me?"

Prowl had gained a far away, glassy look in his optics. Jazz waved his hand in front of him, trying to drag him back.

"Jazz to Prowl? Come in?"

Jazz noticed his mistake before Prowl had even registered it, a hand quickly coming up to cover his mouth. Oh, _slag_!! Prowl snapped out of whatever he had fallen into, fixing Jazz with a stern look.

"You disobey me not once, but twice?!" He hissed, seething as he slowly began to rise. The low ceiling of the cavern prevented him from puffing out his wings like he usually did when upset. "I told you _not_ to go in there-!" Prowl stopped himself with a frustrated noise.

"Ah'm sorry Ah was curious - Ah had ta know! Ah'm not gunna spend the rest of my functioning with some nameless dragon!" Jazz spat back, shifting to be on the defensive.

"So you'd rather endanger yourself instead." Prowl replied, still bristling.

"Hey, Ah came back! Didn' have ta, Ah was home free. But Ah did. Nearly got myself killed, too. Ah'll give it to ya straight: they know ya here, Prowl. They're huntin' for ya."

Prowl didn’t seem to be surprised. “They’ve known I am here since before your creators were sparked. It is not news to me.”

_Damn_. Jazz gritted his teeth. “Well, it’s what Ah found out. An’ ya datapads.” Jazz gestured to them. “Ah was followed into the forest, but Ah think Ah lost them.”

Prowl was quiet for a moment before nodding. “Then we’ll just have to deal with them.”

Jazz didn’t like the tone he used.

“Uh… deal with them?”

“They wont be coming back.” Prowl stated, stooping to allow Jazz to climb onto his back, nudging him when he didn’t immediately get the hint. Picking up the datapads in his mouth, Prowl climbed back up the tunnel and ambled towards the cavern where Jazz first fell in.

The datapads were deposited by the entrance, and Prowl gestured to a small crack in the rock, just wide enough for Jazz to get through – and when Jazz noticed the scorch marks around it, he realized it was the tunnel he first slid in through. “I’ll need you to climb back up through there, find the guard and distract them. Get them away from here.”

“An’ just what are ya gunna do?” Jazz asked as he clambered onto Prowls head so he could get lifted up.

“When I am sure it is safe for me to do so, I will leave and join you.”

Right. Okay. Jazz hoped he was fast enough to evade the guard.

“Then what?” He asked as he gripped onto the side of the hole, ready to haul himself up and into it.

“We’ll find out.”

Jazz sensed that it was the end of the conversation, so he just nodded and pulled himself in, gradually climbing out. Once at the surface, he could hear the baying of horses and he knew that they were close.

Well, time to get their attention.

Running towards the sound, Jazz discovered that they had all gathered to one spot, probably to formulate a plan to catch himself and find Prowl. Not for long, as Jazz had stepped on a stick and given himself away.

Frozen like a deer in the headlights, Jazz could only stare blankly at them before sprinting away, hoping that they took the bait.

* * *

 

True to his word, Prowl had come out and very soon there was a smoldering pile of burning metal and energon. Jazz stood and watched it burn, flames flickering and licking up the trees that surrounded them.

“Aren’t ya gunna put it out?” he asked, slowly turning to regard Prowl. The dragon gave him a quick glance.

“No.”

“But it’s starting to burn the trees.”

“It’s predicted to rain. They will grow back.”

And with that, Prowl began to amble away. Looking between the incinerated remains of the guard, the sleepy appearance of the town and the retreating dragon, Jazz quickly made up his mind.

“Hey, wait up!”

* * *

“Ya know, the fact you even _have_ that hoard is really, _really_ weird.” Jazz commented as he saw Prowl return after disappearing once again, muzzle and claws covered in energon. Once he had clarified that he wasn’t going to join that hoard, he’d come to accept it. It wasn’t as if they were about to start getting up and walking again, was it? He didn’t have to go near it, and he certainly didn’t want to.

“I have my reasons.”

“Yeah, sure sure. Halloween decorations, right?”

Prowl gave him a weird look and Jazz internally sighed. Prowl didn’t know what Halloween was, did he?”

“I don’t celebrate Halloween.”

Oop, he did. “Then that just makes it even creepier.”

Prowl snorted, licking his claws. “I highly doubt that you’d get it. I am far from the only one who does this.”

“There are _others_?” Jazz asked, aghast. How was his race even surviving with a league of dragons hoarding their bodies?!

“There _were_.” Prowl replied, optics dimming.

“What happened to them?” Jazz asked, sitting down next to Prowl. The dragon didn’t respond for a moment, still licking himself clean before he responded.

“They were killed.”

Jazz felt a cold chill settle upon himself. He had a feeling that he knew where this was going.

“Did ya know them?” He asked, even as he knew the answer. Yes, Prowl did. Jazz had a thought that was eating away at him, curiosity nibbling at his fingers whenever he saw Prowl. One of the datapads he had swiped for himself stated that dragons lived in large groups called clans, and they never, ever deviated from them. They were social, and highly defensive of their own clans. A kind of ‘insult one insult everyone’ mentality. Even as Jazz cross-referenced with the other datapads he had stolen, and even the few Prowl had lurking around, they all said the same thing:

They never lived alone.

So why did Prowl?

“Yes.” Prowl finally answered, optics dimming further.

“Ah’m sorry.” Jazz quietly replied, reaching out to rest a hand on Prowls jaw. He couldn’t reach any higher.

“It was a long time ago.” Prowl replied, pressing into Jazz’s hand, the small comfort welcome.

There was a moment of silence where neither spoke before Jazz eyed a datapad.

“Did you want me to read to you?” He quietly asked, quietly enough so that Prowl could pretend he couldn’t hear it.

“Please.” Prowl replied, silently watching Jazz as he got to his feet and made a show of selecting a datapad.

“Now, let’s see here…” Jazz thought aloud, placing a finger to his bottom lip in mock thought. “Well, Ah’m in the mood for something funny, adventurous and just that littlest bit weird. What about ya, Prowler?”

Prowl frowned at the nickname. All attempts to get Jazz to drop it failed miserably, but he slowly found himself not minding the endearing nickname that much.

“I am content with anything.”

“Suits me!” Jazz chirped, dramatically selecting the datapad that had caught his optic. He onlined it, dramatically beginning to read from it. “In an unremarkable room, in a nondescript building, a man sat working on very non-descript theories…” Jazz began, slowly walking back over to Prowl and sitting down, leaning back against his shoulder. The customary position.

Prowl sighed, optics offlining and helm coming down to rest against his claws as his body curled around them, tail flicking in contentment.


	2. Chapter Two

It wasn’t long after that day in the forest before the temperature began to plummet, a cold frost dominating the forest and staining it white.

Even if Prowl had let him go outside, Jazz wouldn’t have wanted to. No, he was staying inside where Prowls fire made it warm.

Prowl was still adding to all of his hoards, and it was one day when Jazz was poking through the new datapads he had brought when he came across one that was a datapad on knitting. An idea sprung to mind – knitwear was unusually warm and cosy, and Jazz supposed it had something to do with air pockets, but he felt a thousand times warmer when wrapped in a knitted blanket than he did nestled amongst the pillows in his room.

So it was then when he asked that Prowl find him some yarn, Jazz having found needles in his pile of curiosities before hand. A weird look and a nod later, Jazz found himself facing a pile of yarn taller than himself and an amused Prowl as the dragon dumped it straight on top of him.

It took a few attempts for Jazz to get the hang of it, and several scarves later Jazz begun to make knitted squares, setting them to the side in a neat pile. Prowl would often poke his head in to see what he was doing, curious, before ambling off again.

When Jazz found him curled up tightly, ground beneath him glowing red hot from where he had burned it with his flame, he knew that he'd be needing more yarn. So Jazz asked for him to get more, and retreated back to his room to make as many knitted squares as he could.

By the time Prowl had returned with the requested yarn, acquired by suspicious means, Jazz had fallen into recharge and had flopped back onto his pillows and was surrounded by knitted squares.

Prowl silently put all of the yarn down and found Jazz's blanket, gently pulling it over his sleeping form. He would have tucked him in if he didn't want to risk waking him and thus getting caught.

Jazz was surprised when he woke up. He was sure he wasn't covered by his blanket...

The presence of more yarn didn't go unnoticed, and Jazz was quick to start dropping more lines.

* * *

Jazz officially hated needles.

He had no thimble, so stabbing himself as he stitched the squares together was commonplace. Sighing and gritting his teeth, Jazz continued. He had to get this finished after all, it was for Prowl.

The squares he had left over he stitched into his own blanket, but the vast majority went into Prowls.

Lucky bugger.

Still, it was keeping Jazz warm as he worked on it so he couldn't complain.

In the end, he only just managed to finish it in time, the gift-giving day mere joors away as Jazz worked throughout the evening.

All attempts for Prowl to see what he was up to were promptly cut short, Jazz shooing him away before he could get a glimpse. This resulted in a suspicious Prowl, but all he could do was keep an optic on him, but not what he was doing.

Come the next morning, Jazz had folded the blanket into a more manageable size and hauled it towards where Prowl usually slept - just outside his room. The ground beneath him showed signs of being burned again, and Jazz hoped that his present would be enough to keep him warm.

"Good morning, Prowl!" Jazz chirped, patting him on the belly. Prowl glared at him, whether it was because he interrupted his sleep or because he patted his tummy Jazz didn't know, but nor did he care. Now that he had Prowls attention, he brandished the blanket and attempted to throw it over him.

Needless to say, given Jazz was a fraction of Prowls size, it did not work too well.

A few curses slipped out as Jazz frowned at it, moving to climb over Prowl and set it right. The wings were a factor Jazz had forgotten, and he wasn't sure how he'd be getting around that one.

Taking pity on him, Prowl summarised that it was meant to cover his back, so he grabbed onto one corner with his teeth and gently pulled it over himself, covering his wings too.

Now that was a weird sensation.

Jazz looked very pleased with himself, sliding off Prowl and looking at him with a big grin.

"So? What do ya think?"

"What is it?" Prowl asked, shifting around in contemplation.

"It's a blanket." Jazz chirped, now used to Prowl simply not knowing what things were. He hadn't known what a dictionary was either, but it had quickly become one of his favourite things. Words, and their definitions! Excellent!

"A... Blanket?" Prowl tested this new word, looking at Jazz to make sure he'd got it right.

"Yep! Ya use it when ya cold, keeps ya warm."

Prowl nodded, shuffling again. He wasn't too sure on his wings being covered. They were sensitive, and helped him to see what was behind him. Having a blind spot wasn't something he particularly liked.

It would take some getting used to.

“So, ya like it?” Jazz asked, looking at him expectantly. Prowl didn’t hesitate to nod.

Despite its fault of leaving him feeling blind, it was comfortable and warm. Jazz had obviously put a lot of effort into it. He was rewarded with a dazzling grin.

* * *

The lone figure of Jazz sat perched atop the belfry, silently watching the few figures meandering around below.

It was late at night, and nobody would be looking upwards. If they did, they’d have to have pretty damn good eyesight to be able to see him, so safe he remained.

He climbed down, taking care to not dislodge any loose bricks as he went. Just because it was late, didn’t mean that the bars would be closing. Drunk mechs were laughably easy to get credits and information from.

But today, he was not here to steal their credits. No, he was after any information they might have. Discreetly pulling the fabric cloak he had tighter to himself – the weather here demanded it – Jazz entered the bar he’d been keeping an optic on.

In the town before, Jazz had heard about a league of hunters who hunted beings much larger than themselves. Namely; dragons. And they often frequented this bar.

Obviously, Jazz did not like this one bit, especially considering they were so close to Prowls den. If he could get any scoop on where they were headed, or who they were tracking down, he might be able to steer them away from the area and so away from Prowl. It wasn’t as if Prowl could fend for himself – he had, many times against hunters who got too big for their boots – but the thought of it simply didn’t sit too well with Jazz.

Jazz was almost certain that if Prowl found out he was in the town with hunters, he’d pitch a fit, but he was certain that if he found something of use, it would sit better with the temperamental dragon. So, taking a stool by the bar, he flicked down his hood and called the mixologist over.

After ordering, he allowed his optics to wander and watch the mechs inside. Thankfully, his visor meant that he remained undetected. Many didn’t take too well to being scrutinized, and as he was alone he really didn’t want to get into a scrap. Then Prowl would _really_ get pissed with him.

How many vorn had it been since he’d first fallen into that den? Jazz didn’t know, he’d stopped counting that day in the forest. Now starting on his adult upgrades, he was significantly taller than before (yet Prowl still insisted on calling him little one) and Prowl wasn’t as massive as he remembered. If he asked nicely, Prowl would let him sit on his back as he went flying. Once or twice, Jazz had attempted to stand and promptly fallen off.

The… _creepy_ hoard didn’t bother Jazz as much anymore. Now that he knew what it was – simply a tradition in his now almost extinct clan – it was easy to brush off. It wasn’t Prowl being malicious, or him looking to stir trouble. No, it was a way that they commemorated their dead. Prowl didn’t tell Jazz how many he’d collected in total, but he knew that he was still a long way from being done. Jazz _would_ have offered to help – he did with the other hoards – but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. Prowl understood and never pressed the matter.

There was a loud shout from behind him, and Jazz turned around to see the group he was looking for. They were loudly laughing over their latest kill, boasting their prowess. Well. It was time to test that, wasn’t it?

Accepting the drink from the mixologist, Jazz stood and sauntered over, listening into their conversation.

“Sounds dangerous, mechs!” Jazz said, gesturing to an empty seat. “Care if Ah join ya?”

There was no objection, and some even moved up to allow him more room. Grinning, Jazz promptly sat down. “So, Ah couldn’t help but hear ya. Hunters, yeah?” He asked, sipping from his drink. Non-alcoholic, that was for sure. If it took a turn for the worst, he’d be getting nowhere if he was overcharged.

“You got that right.” The biggest one there replied. He was a dark storm cloud grey, his voice raucous. Jazz could smell the high grade oozing from him, and fought to not wrinkle his nose. “The best of the best.”

“Pretty confident, aren’t ya?” Jazz teased, leaning back in his chair.

“We have reason to be.” A much smaller mech replied. Jazz couldn’t see their body at all; they were completely encased in fabric. Only their helm remained visible, and their optics were staring straight into Jazz’s. A challenge.

“Hey now, Ah’m not doubtin’ ya abilities.” Jazz smoothed. “Have ya got any plans on who ta go for next?”

“What’s it to you?” The third and final hunter asked, eyeing Jazz up. They were a dark blue, not unlike the colour the sea turned before a storm. “You seem to be too curious. What do you want?”

“Simply a curiosity.” Jazz replied. “Ah’ve heard a lot about ya. Wondering if ya thinkin’ of moving onto bigger ‘n’ better things.”

The first mech to speak, and the largest, looked at him from over the top of his high grade. “We’ve heard that there’s the last of a clan in the area, but we’re not stupid enough to hunt them. His clan was vicious, took a miracle for it to be exterminated the way it was.”

Jazz instantly relaxed. They weren’t going after Prowl. But the fact they knew he was here irked Jazz slightly. “Exterminated?”

“There are ancient records that talk about the Praxus clan, and a war. The war ended when the clan was wiped out, save one.” The one clad in fabric replied. Jazz contemplated asking them for their names, but decided against it. If he’d heard a lot about them, surely he would know their names?

“Wow…” Jazz replied, resettling himself. Prowl didn’t like talking about it at all, and always fell into a state even the funniest stories couldn’t pull him out of. Given a few days, Prowl would be his normal grumpy self again, but it wasn’t something Jazz enjoyed seeing Prowl acting like. He vaguely knew of the war, but not that it involved Prowls clan.

“Anyway. We’re not going anywhere near him and going further east instead. We’ve heard that there’s a hunting ground there that the smaller ones frequent, should get a pretty penny there.”

“Wait, ya sell stuff?” Jazz asked, raising an optic ridge. Why would they sell dragon carcasses?

“Black market, and medicine. Their parts are incredibly valuable. I’d imagine that that last of his clan fella would be worth a small fortune, but we’re not going after him any time soon.”

“So you plan to?” Jazz asked, trying to not let his voice drop into the threatening tone it was desperate to. Maybe he should warn Prowl.

“In time, yes.” The fabric clad one replied. “However, I believe that you are prying too much. What are you here for?”

“Simply curiosity.” Jazz evenly replied, downing the last of his drink and standing to leave. “Ah have ta go now anyway. Been nice gettin’ ta talk ta ya.”

And with that, Jazz set down his empty cube and strode out.

* * *

Jazz found Prowl snoozing atop his pile of curiosities. When he heard Jazz come in, an optic lazily flickered open and he yawned, shudder running through him. The now tatty blanket that Jazz had given him all those years ago was still covering him, and had now grown as Jazz had added more squares onto it.

“You’re late.” He grumbled, voice still gritty from sleep.

“Well, Ah found somethin’ of interest.” Jazz replied, not bothering to shrug the cloak he’d donned off just yet. Despite the fire that illuminated the den, it was still cold. “The huntin’ ground to the east of here were they teach the lil’ ones ta hunt is being targeted.”

That got Prowls attention, and his head immediately lifted, tail flicking. “I presume they expect a welcoming committee.”

“Ah’d love ta go say hi.”

“Did they say when?” Prowl asked, shifting to leave the pile he was sleeping on and moving down to be on the same level as Jazz.

“No, but Ah’m guessin’ pretty soon. It’s usually this time a’year they start teachin’ them, right?”

Prowl nodded, continuing on out of the cavern. “I’ll have to go and warn them.”

“Can Ah come?” Jazz asked hopefully, trotting after Prowl.

“Not this time.” He replied. Jazz pouted. Same as always, Prowl never allowed him to socialize with any of the other dragons. Well, there was that one time with the youngling, but that was an accident and the conversation wasn’t exactly capturing. Their vocabulary was limited at best, and at that moment in time Jazz didn’t understand the clicks and the growls.

“Next time?” He ventured. Maybe?

“We’ll see.”

Same as always. Jazz sighed and relented, dropping the subject. Prowl shrugged off the blanket, dumping it on Jazz as he went.

“Hey!” Jazz spluttered, fighting to find the edge and escape. It was incredibly warm, but at the same time he couldn’t see where he was going and had managed to walk into a rock face.

“Ow ow ow...” Jazz muttered as he rubbed his forehelm, already feeling a lump forming. He eventually shrugged it off, catching Prowls tail disappear around a corner. “When will ya be back?”

“Soon. They may ask for my help dispatching them.” Prowl replied, his voice echoing.

“Don’t make the kids pick up any’a ya bad habits!” Jazz warned. He’d seen Prowl in a fight, and had often fought beside him, and the number of times he’d been accidentally singed… If there were an army of younglings copying him, Jazz would run. Run so, so far. Like heck was he staying anywhere near them!

“I do not have any ‘bad habits’.” Prowl groused, clearly displeased. “You just choose to think of them that way.”

“Ah most certainly do when Ah’m the one endin’ up charred!” Jazz shot back, quickly catching up to him. “Still, point stands. Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

“As if I am capable of that.”

Jazz gave him a look that told Prowl that yes; he clearly was, before dramatically gesturing to himself. “Hm. Yeah, sure Prowler. Whatever ya say.”

Prowl simply grunted and didn’t entertain him with a reply.

* * *

Going into recharge alone and waking up feeling a warm breeze blowing on you would have scared the crap out of anyone, and Jazz was no exception.

On the second day after Prowl had left, Jazz had spread out Prowls blanket so it was flat on the ground before rolling in it, wrapping it around himself like a cocoon. Wriggling around until he was comfortable, Jazz fell into recharge wondering when Prowl would be back and if he had anything interesting to show him. He usually did bring something back, whether it was to add to his numerous hoards or simply to show Jazz as he found it interesting or amusing.

Whilst he was relatively comfortable, he wasn't overly warm (the tatty nature of the blanket made sure of that) but he still managed it none the less.

Waking up again he was greeted with the sight of Prowl curled around around him, his warm breath breezing over his face.

That, he most certainly did not expect. The high pitched noise he released only served to prove that point. Prowl stirred, sleepily blinking before uncurling, stretching as much as he could in the cavern.

"When did ya get back?" Jazz asked, wriggling himself into a sitting position.

"A few joors ago. I am sorry if I woke you."

"Nah, ya didn'. What did ya do?"

"Simply warned them, had to suffer with their offers and then left."

"Offers?" That was new.

"Offers to join their clan." Prowl explained, helping Jazz out of the blanket. "They are not the first, nor the last."

"Ah didn' know ya could do that."

"If you are exiled, or leave, or find yourself without a clan, you can join another. It does help with the gene pool." Prowl admitted.

"That's great! Prowl, ya should totally do it!"

"I do not believe they will take too well to you. Had the offer been made vorns ago, I may have accepted."

"Is there anyone out there who won't try ta eat me?" Jazz grumbled, shrugging the rest of the blanket off. "Ya really need new friends, Prowl. Ah don't take ta bein' on the menu too well."

"There is one clan, they're a major player." Prowl admitted. "My clan was in the middle of discussing an alliance between them."

"Prowler ya should totally go for it!"

Prowl frowned at him. "It means leaving everything here behind."

"No skin off my back. All Ah've got is you."

That was true, Prowl belatedly realised. Jazz was an orphan, he had no family. He'd been betrayed by the others and couldn't enter the town again, and he was a wanted mech. Everything he had was in the little room Prowl had made for him.

"If the situation calls for it, I will consider it." Prowl eventually replied. It was as good as Jazz was going to get.

"Promise ya will." Jazz replied. He knew that despite Jazz being there, Prowl still craved the contact of his own species. Many of his outings were social ones.

"Promise."

"Good." Jazz grinned, seemingly satisfied.

* * *

Jazz was bored. Bored, bored, bored.

Prowl had been gone for two cycles now, but Jazz had no idea where he even was or how long he was going to take. Yesterday he had braved a trip into the town, however the hunting trio who he spoke with last time seemed to have associates in the taverns, and they all knew Jazz was one of the last to speak with them before they mysteriously disappeared.

_Whoops_. He really needed to work on covering his tracks…

Then, there was going into his hometown, which was much much closer than the other town, however there he would _definitely_ be killed, and a few moments of adrenaline wasn’t worth an eternity in the pit.

Perhaps a walk outside might help him.

Jazz found his cloak on his berth, and he closely wrapped it around himself as he left the cave. The forest was quiet, and he could hear the ice crunching beneath his pedes as he walked. Strange… it was _too_ quiet.

Despite himself, he walked briskly towards his hometown. Exiled or not, there was a problem there. The forest always went silent when trouble was brewing. But Jazz didn’t need to go far to find out what was happening – he could smell faint wisps of smoke and the sound of clanging bells could just be heard, if he stopped walking.

He quickened his pace.

He was running by the time he reached the gate. There were no guards stationed there, and no one on the walls – there was something big enough in the town to justify everyone being focused there. Jazz slipped in through, and stopped when he recognized something on the ground.

A scale.

It was the size of his hand, but it was the same shape as the ones that decorated Prowls neck. Which meant… Something very young was here, and it had been hit hard enough for a scale to come off.

Jazz cleared his throat. Prowl had started to teach him how to speak with their clicks and growls, but his vocalizer just wasn’t cut out for it. He’d try, though. If it was a young dragon, he’d try. Following the sounds of mecha shouting, Jazz climbed up and hopped over roof tops until he spotted the dragon.

Oh it was _adorable_!

It was mostly red and grey, with the biggest optics Jazz had ever seen. Its wings were tucked against it as it trembled, and the remains of the communal fire were scattered around its feet. What had happened was obvious – it had detected the fire and had just wanted to stay warm. It begged the question as to where its parents were, but Jazz decided he could ask that later. He cupped his hands around his mouth and started clicking.

The dragon immediately looked at him, and scrambled to follow him when Jazz jumped down onto the streets and started running towards the gate.

“ _Follow me_.” He’d said, “ _I’ll take you somewhere safe and warm_.”

The youngling didn’t think twice about following Jazz.

Jazz waited at the gates for the dragon to catch up, and nearly hightailed it out of there when he saw all of the guards following it. _Christ almighty_! But despite how scared he was, he had to stay and wait for it to catch up.

An arrow brushed past his face.

Fuck that.

Jazz clicked at it again to try and keep up before he continued to run deep into the forest.

Oh Primus what was he doing. Prowl was going to go _spare_! Bringing another dragon into his den?! Oh god, there was barely enough room for both himself and Prowl!

But… Maybe this would be the push Prowl needed?

Jazz made sure the dragon was still following him. From the sounds of it, the guards were retreating back into the town. They still remembered Prowl, and likely thought he was still there. Jazz thought, anyway.

There was no point in dwelling on it, especially now that the whimpering youngling was trying to stuff its face under his cloak.

“H-hey!” Jazz jerked, and the youngling scuttled backwards into a tree in shock. “ _Sorry_ ” Jazz meekly clicked at them, “ _Please follow me_ …”

The youngling chirped the affirmative back at him, and trotted a healthy four paces behind him as they walked through the icy forest. They paused when they reached the solid rock face, watching Jazz nervously as they continued walking. They tried to tell him to stop and that it was solid, but the noises caught in their throat when they saw them disappear in through the rock. Curious, they followed.

Unknown to the both of them, Prowl froze mid-word as the youngling crossed over the threshold. The first thing on his mind was ‘ _oh god, Jazz’,_ and then the next thing was ‘ _oh god, Ratchet_ ’ when he realized he’d spoken aloud.

Prowl nervously looked at the medic.

“Jazz?” They asked with an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Prowl coolly replied.

“You just said it.”

“You’re hearing things.”

“ _My_ hearing is fine.” Ratchet testily replied. “But I can’t say the same about yours if you don’t tell me who Jazz is.”

“No one important.” Prowl replied. “I have to leave.”

“No one important yet you’re rushing to go.” Ratchet replied before heaving a sigh. “I’ll tell Optimus something came up. You’ll have to come back soon.”

“I will.” Prowl promised.

Jazz, on the other hand, was hoping that Prowl wouldn’t be coming back any time soon.

The young dragon had made itself comfortable on the tatty blanket and had taken to screaming its displeasure whenever Jazz tried to take it away. “This isn’t yours!” Jazz grunted as he tried fruitlessly to tug it out from underneath it. The dragon was somewhat smaller than he was, yet somehow much heavier. Their wings were pitiful little things pressed against their side, but it didn’t stop them from smacking Jazz away with them as it shrieked.

“Get up! Ah mean it!” Jazz warned with a threatening finger. “Prowl will be most upset if ya tear this!”

The dragon chuckled to itself as they simply buried down into the blanket, curled up, and closed their optics.

Oh, great. Just _brilliant_.

 “Ya are impossible!” Jazz spat. Was he ever like this when he was younger?! No wonder he used to have a knack for pissing off Prowl, if he was anything like this little dragon was! “Hey, before ya sleep.” Jazz said, nudging them with his foot. “ _What’s your name_?”

They sleepily clicked two words. “ _Blue streak_.”

Huh. Interesting name…

Any further attempts to communicate with the dragon were met with silence, and when Jazz held his breath he could hear a quiet snore. Great. They’d fallen asleep already.

Oh he was so, so dead. Prowl hated unexpected visitors!

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a request, although I did go off it slightly... I must apologise for that.  
> References to books in order of appearance:  
> The tales of Beedle the Bard – JK Rowling (Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump)  
> Dragon Rider – Cornelia Funke  
> Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire – JK Rowling  
> Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell (The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish)  
> Dracula – Bram Stoker  
> UnLunDun – China Miéville  
> As always, if there's anything you'd like to request then please do. I'm a really, really big fan of AU's so don't be shy if your request is obscure.


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